


Coda to "Book of the Damned"

by elliex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x18 coda, But they work things out, Castiel is lying and Dean knows it, Charlie wins a bet, Dishwashing takes two, Family Night in the Bunker, M/M, Mark of Cain, Other things also take two, Sam can't make deastiel happen, Some Fluff, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10x18 coda</p><p>What happened after the family night of beer & pizza? </p><p>Castiel does the dishes, and Dean volunteers to help. What happens next doesn't change things so much as it confirms what's always been true.</p><p>Charlie's chipper, and Sam just can't catch a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coda to "Book of the Damned"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C_Diva (thecollective)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/gifts).



 

\+ + + +

 

Castiel knows immediately when Dean enters the room.

 

Castiel has always been attuned to Dean, but now, it’s _different._ For over a year, he’s been listening to Dean through the damper of borrowed grace or, worse, unable to hear him at all. With Castiel’s original grace pulsing through his being, this is nearly overwhelming.

 

Castiel desperately wants to assuage the longing that radiates from Dean.  

 

Instead, Castiel plunges his hands back into the warm, soapy water, fishing for the next plate to wash.

 

The refrigerator door opens and Castiel looks over to see Dean extracting another beer. He pops off the top, tossing it into the trashcan.

 

“Where is everybody? I was only gone a few minutes.”

 

Castiel senses his disappointment, just as he’d sensed his joy all evening. Cas still doesn’t understand the pointed looks Sam and Charlie had exchanged once Dean had gone to the bathroom, so he only gives the excuses they offered:

 

“Sam went to bed because he wants to get an early start tomorrow. Charlie said something about having a special appointment with Dorothy.”

 

Dean nods and then his brow furrows. “Wait - What? Did you mojo her cell phone or something? How’s she getting a call through to Oz?”

 

Cas smiles and adds the plate to the clean stack. “She said she found something in her travels that gives —” Castiel pauses to remember the exact phrasing “—new meaning to the words ‘cross-dimensional phone sex.’”

 

Dean leans sideways against the counter. “Well, guess it’s just the two of us then, huh?”

 

He looks over to see Dean smiling – one of those warm, soft smiles that brings out his eye crinkles. Castiel feels his own longing and makes himself focus on the dishes.

 

A moment later, Dean affectionately bumps his shoulder with his own. Castiel leans into his friend; he doesn’t realize at first that Dean is leaning into him, too. When Cas does, he _wants._

 

Instead, Castiel keeps washing. He’s starting on the silverware now.

 

“Want some help?” Dean’s voice is husky, pitched low.

 

Castiel meets his friend’s gaze and gestures towards the clean stack. “Want to rinse?”

 

Dean’s answer is to roll up his sleeves further. He swivels the faucet over his side of the sink, turns on the hot water, and begins rinsing the soapy dishes.

 

“Why are you doing this the old-fashioned way?”

 

Castiel pauses in the middle of scrubbing dried cheese off the pizza cutter. “You mean the human way?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean concedes, carefully stacking the plates on the drying mat without looking at Castiel.

 

“I like the human way.” Castiel doesn’t miss the surprised and hopeful glance Dean throws his way.

 

“Even though …” Dean trails off, but Castiel knows where Dean’s mind is going.  

 

“Even though,” Castiel says firmly. “I forgive you, Dean.” He hands the clean cutter to Dean and sees his shocked expression.

 

“What?,” he asks. “That can’t be news to you.”

 

Dean shakes his head, and for a moment, his eyes look watery, but he says nothing.

 

When Castiel pulls the plug, letting the now-dirty water drain, Dean swivels the faucet over, angling it so that it will wash the debris away.

 

“Shall we dry?,” Castiel asks.

 

“Sure,” Dean says, pulling out two towels from a nearby drawer.

 

“I like these,” Castiel says, running his finger across the blue-striped woven cotton.

 

“Yeah? I picked ‘em out. Thought they… um… were cheerful.”

 

Dean’s cheeks pink, and Castiel wonders why. His grace reaches out and reads a tinge of embarrassment. Not for the first time, he’s tempted to read Dean’s thoughts, but he resists. He gives Dean his secrets, just as Dean allows his.

 

Or rather, as Dean _reluctantly_ allows his. Castiel knows that Dean will be angry when he learns that Cas and Sam deceived him, when he learns that Metatron is free because of their thwarted plans.

 

So Castiel tells himself to enjoy this moment, to not consider that in saving Dean, he may lose him.

 

Quietly, he and Dean dry the dishes and put them away. When they’re done, the only evidence of their family evening is the over-full trashcan and recycling bin.

 

Castiel leans back against the sink’s cast-iron edge. Dean picks up his beer from the counter and drinks. Castiel watches the muscles work in Dean’s throat as he swallows.

 

Dean licks his lips and sees Castiel watching. His lips curve in a broad, knowing smile.

 

 _If only_ , Castiel thinks. He waits for the inevitable: When Dean tamps his longing down, Castiel holds back a frustrated sigh.

 

Dean opens the refrigerator, grabbing two fresh beers and popping their caps into the garbage. He hands Castiel one; their fingers brush as he hands off the bottle. 

 

“So Hannah fixed you up, huh?”

 

Castiel tilts his head in confusion until he remembers. “Oh, um, yes. She did.” He takes a long drink from his beer to disguise his discomfort.

 

Dean sighs. “You can tell me, you know.”

 

“Tell you what?”

 

Dean gestures at nothing. “Whatever. About finding your Angel Charming or whatever.”

 

Castiel doesn’t understand. “Dean, what are you talking about?”

 

“You know, like in the fairy tales.” Dean’s lips on the rim of the beer bottle distract Castiel, and it takes him a moment.

 

“Wait. Do you mean as in the common romantic trope of…”

 

Dean cuts him off. “Yeah, Cas.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “Just – you can tell me. I want you to be happy.”

 

“I’m happy here with you,” Castiel says impulsively.

 

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s Hannah say about that?”

 

Castiel gives a truthful, if incomplete, response: “She says that I’m desperate to save you.”

 

Dean looks confused. “Doesn’t she have a problem with that?”

 

Castiel shrugs. “What she has a problem with doesn’t matter to me.”

 

Dean laughs uncertainly. “Wow. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Never would’ve thought.”

 

Now Castiel is confused. “I didn’t love and leave anyone” – _except you_ , he adds silently, remembering purgatory. “What are you talking about?”

 

Dean side-eyes Castiel. “You said Hannah helped you get your grace, right?”

 

“Yes.” Castiel swallows nervously. The very-human tic doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean and his gaze turns sharp.

 

“And Hannah doesn’t like me _at all_ , so if you left her to help me, after she went above and beyond, I imagine she’s pissed. Right?”

 

“Um, right,” Castiel agrees, nodding for emphasis.

 

Dean takes Castiel’s now-empty beer bottle from his hand and tosses both bottles into the bin. The resulting clink reverberates in the small room.

 

Castiel thinks this is the end of the conversation until Dean comes to stand in front of him, arms folded across his chest.

 

“Castiel.”

 

“Dean.”

 

Dean takes a step closer; they are mere inches apart. Castiel looks away.

 

“Why do you have that shifty-eyed look again? What are you not telling me?”

 

Castiel forces himself to meet Dean’s eyes and shakes his head. He lies once more: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Dean begins pacing, hands clasped behind his head. “You’re lying. To me.” He drops his arms and glares at Cas. “Again. Which means you _did_ something to get your grace, which means it’s probably something _not good_.”

 

Dean comes even closer this time and grabs the lip of the sink on either side of Castiel. “This was supposed to be a win, Cas. What. Did. You. Do?”

 

Castiel’s temper flares, and he grabs Dean’s arms, flipping them effortlessly. Dean’s eyes widen at the change of position, but he steels his jaw defiantly. “So, I was right. You did something _not-good_.” Dean glares at him. “Did Hannah even help you at all?”

 

“Does it matter?,” Castiel asks.

 

“It matters to me,” Dean retorts. He clears his throat. “I need to know that you’re happy, Cas. That when, uh… _if_ everything happens, that you’re okay.”

 

Fear immobilizes Cas for a moment. “You’re not dying,” he grinds out. “I won’t allow it.”

 

Castiel presses closer. Dean’s eyes drop to Castiel’s mouth.

 

“Dean,” Castiel says, his voice low. He tells himself he should let go, step away, not push the limits of what Dean–

 

Then Dean’s lips are on his, hard, insistent, consuming. Nimble fingers thread through Castiel’s hair, cup the back of his head; strong thighs press tightly around his.

 

Castiel instinctively rocks his hips against Dean’s, moans into his mouth.

 

Dean rocks back and then stops. “Wait,” he breathes.

 

Cas freezes, stares at Dean, wonders if he’s about to end this.

 

As if reading his thoughts, Dean huffs a laugh. “Oh, we’re finishing this, but I don’t want zipper burn, even if you are back to full healing power.”

 

Castiel lets Dean grab his hand, lace their fingers together, and lead him out of the room. Castiel flicks off the light, the human way, as they go.

 

The corner of Dean’s mouth quirks up. “You could’ve mojo-ed that.”

 

Castiel tightens his hold on Dean’s hand. “I told you. I like the human way.”

 

They’re at Dean’s bedroom door, and Dean’s pulling him inside. “Well, that’s good. Because we’re about to do a lot of _very_ human things.”

 

It’s Castiel who pins Dean against the now-closed door. Dean grabs his hips, slots their bodies together. He reaches forward and catches Cas’s bottom lip with his own.

 

Castiel pulls back enough to ask, “Why now?”

 

Dean drops his eyes and takes a deep breath before answering. “Because I – I need to know.”

 

“Know what?” Castiel caresses Dean’s face, smoothing a thumb along Dean’s cheekbone.

 

Dean flushes. “What it’s like…being with you.” He whispers the last part, and his fingers reflexively dig into Castiel’s hips.

 

Castiel can’t speak. He realizes too late that his silence is unnerving Dean.

 

Dean’s hands drop from Castiel’s body. “Um - it’s okay. I get it if you don’t want things to change.”

 

Castiel presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead and begins unbuttoning the hunter’s flannel shirt. Dean's expression is still uncertain. “Yeah?,” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” Castiel answers, smiling as he pushes the unbuttoned shirt off Dean’s shoulders. Dean works it the rest of the way off and tosses it in the floor.

 

They stare at each other a moment, and then are lost in a flurry of kicking off shoes, socks, pants, and quickly snatching kisses and caresses.

 

Dean scoots back on the memory foam mattress that he swears “remembers him.” Castiel intends to give it much to remember tonight.

 

Dean leans back on his elbows and smiles. “C’mere.”

 

Castiel swallows hard before obliging, but he doesn’t do what Dean expects. He starts out caressing Dean’s legs, grinning when Dean tips his head back and laughs.

 

“The fun’s a little further up,” Dean teases.

 

“I’ll get there,” Castiel retorts, bending his head to mouth along Dean’s skin.

 

He ignores when the man he tore through hell for laughs at having his kneecap kissed.

 

He ignores when the man he defied heaven for gasps at having his inner thigh nipped, at having his balls sucked.

 

He ignores when the man he braved purgatory for moans at having his nipple lightly bitten.

  

When Castiel settles his body over Dean’s, he doesn’t ignore that his friend’s breathing is ragged, his skin flushed, his cock hard and leaking. Castiel is in similar shape.

 

Dean frames Castiel’s face with his hands. “I’m happy with you, too, you know.” Castiel feels the unspoken _I love you_ broadcasting from Dean’s soul.

 

“I know,” Castiel replies, wrapping his grace around that beloved soul.  _I love you_ , he thinks.

 

Castiel wonders if, somehow, Dean heard him because when he bows his head, Dean murmurs, “I know,” just before their lips meet.

 

+ 

 

Afterwards, they lay entwined, as close as they can get. The Mark on Dean’s arm is visible as his hand cards through Castiel’s hair. The touch comforts, the sight of the Mark does not, though its presence is faint at the moment.

 

With his head pillowed on Dean’s chest, Castiel listens to the beating of a heart that, not long ago, had stilled. The surge of emotion prompts him to speak.

 

“I would tell you if I could.”

 

Dean’s hand stills. “How not-good is it?”

 

Castiel answers honestly, “It depends on your perspective.” He raises his head and looks up at Dean, whose palm now rests against Castiel’s cheek.

 

“I will tell you what I can when I can. I promise.” Dean’s eyes search his face. “I promise, Dean. This isn’t like before.”

 

Dean nods. “Okay." He pauses before adding, "Look, I know that you and Sam are still looking for something to get me out of this." He turns his forearm to better show the Mark. “And I know that neither of you will stop until I get put down.”

 

Castiel grips Dean’s arm tightly. “That won’t happen.”

 

“It might. It probably _will_ , and let’s face it – If it does, you’re probably going to be the one who has to do it.”

 

Tears prickle at Castiel’s eyes.

 

“Hey, hey,” Dean said, wiping the corner of Cas’s left eye with his thumb. “Shit. I’m sorry, Cas. I just–”

 

Castiel sees the tears standing in Dean’s eyes and surges forward, intent on claiming Dean with his mouth, his hands, his grace – anything to keep the darkness at bay.

 

They make love in a near-violent fervor that doesn’t abate until Cas comes deep inside of Dean and collapses, spreading the white streaks of Dean’s release between them. Dean’s legs, already hiked up, cross at the ankles behind him, and Dean murmurs, “Don’t move yet?”

 

Castiel nods and snuffles into the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing in the leather and spice he associates with the man he's always loved.

 

Deep in his soul, his grace, or whatever he has now, Castiel knows that he’ll never let go of Dean. Come hell or heaven, he won’t. He can’t.

 

\+ + + +

 

The next morning, Sam sits at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and impatiently waiting on the coffee to perk.

 

Charlie dances into the room wearing her headphones.

 

 _This_ morning, Sam resents that she’s a morning person.

 

Charlie sees him and grins, slipping her headphones down around her neck. “Hiya, Sunshine. Sleep well?”

 

“You know exactly how I slept,” Sam grouses. “I’m scarred for life. And I didn’t think anything could scar me more than Lucifer’s Cage.”

 

“Oh, don’t be a grouch,” Charlie says, pouring them each a mugful of coffee. She hands Sam his and takes the seat across from him. “And you owe me twenty dollars.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes but pulls his wallet out and proffers the owed bill. She snatches it and holds it to her nose. “Mmmm. I love the smell of winning a bet in the morning.”

 

Sam grunts and takes a gulp of his coffee, wincing when he burns his mouth.

 

“It’s your own fault,” Charlie says unsympathetically. “I offered you my extra headphones but nooooo. You were sure nothing would happen yet.” She points at him. “I warned you. The path of an OTP can’t be stopped, and Destiel is a juggernaut.”

 

Sam shakes his head. “I still think it should be pronounced ‘Dea-stiel.’”

 

Charlie snorts. “Give it up, Sam. ‘Dea-stiel’ just isn't going to happen." 

 

\+ + + +

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Collectiva Diva, I hope you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
